Dead Girls
by undeadstoryteller
Summary: Set during S2. The unnamed girl who offered her blood to Mitchell and was eventually fed to Ivan is now a ghost. Feeling guilty and helpless, Mitchell tries to help her find her unfinished business by bringing her to Annie, who's just about had it with Mitchell's cagey behavior.
1. Chapter 1

Mitchell ran the numbers again. There was no real reason to do it, he just liked the sound of the old adding machine. It made him feel busy, and they usually left him alone when they thought he was busy.

There was a knock on the office door.

Mitchell paused and looked at the door, then continued to punch in numbers in the hopes that whoever it was would go away.

"Mr. Mitchell Sir?"

He sighed. "Come in."

The door opened, and Reg stuck his head in. He was one of the younger vampires, cooperative, but but not altogether on board with giving up the blood. He rubbed his close-cropped afro nervously.

"What do you need, Reg?"

Reg stood up straight and took a deep breath. "We know you said no blood -"

"And I meant it," Mitchell said.

"Right. But I was watching the tele, right? And there's this bastard, attacked a girl right here in Bristol, they put a drawing of him on the news."

Mitchell looked up. "Is he one of ours?"

Reg shook his head. "No, no. I think he's a proper human."

"And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Well, me and some of the lads were thinking… we know what the bastard looks like, right?"

Mitchell turned his attention back to the adding machine. "If humans are hurting other humans, that's not our business."

"But they said, help get him off the street-"

"They meant humans should call the police if they see him."

Reg drew back. "So we should just let him keep doing it?"

Mitchell crossed his arms. "We don't police humans, Reg. I've enough work looking after our own."

Reg paused. "I thought you were a human sympathizer and all."

Mitchell rolled his eyes. "This isn't about sympathizing with humans. You think I'm gonna make an exception and let you drink this bloke - and every bloke in Bristol who looks like him - and I'm not. No blood, no exceptions. We don't have a system in place anymore. How many times do I have to say it?"

Reg huffed. "You let Ivan drink."

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone knows. And he ain't even helping humans doing it."

Mitchell stood up. "Ivan's not your business."

"Then what is my business, exactly?"

"Your business is to do what I say."

Reg crossed his arms and stared at Mitchell. Mitchell fixed on his gaze, unmoved.

"That's not going to work," Mitchell said, finally. He pulled some money out of his front pocket and held it out to him. "Here, go order some pizza or something."

"We're all sick as hell of pizza, Mitchell."

"And I'm sick of all of you whining."

Reg paused, and yanked the notes out of Mitchell's hand.

"Thank you, _sir_," Reg said, he voice oozing with sarcasm, before walking out.

Mitchell sat back down and stared at the ceiling. There had to be a better way. Pizza? That wasn't going to last much longer. Some of them had already gotten themselves violently ill on pig's blood, despite his warnings that animal blood was not a substitute for human blood.

The worst of it was, he wanted human blood as much as any of them. Sometimes, in his weaker moments, he wondered if it would really hurt anything to lure in a couple of lonely, destitute humans no one would ever miss. He sighed. Was it really wrong to hunt the rapist like Reg wanted?

He felt a chill. His eyes lowered. There by the door stood The Girl, Ivan's girl, the one he'd been drinking from. She hugged herself nervously.

"I don't know what happened," she said, her voice shaky.

Mitchell stood and walked over to her. She looked… flickery, like Annie on a bad day. He knew right away. She hadn't escaped from her chains. Not in her body, anyway.

"What's happened?" Mitchell asked. "What did he do?"

She looked at him, confused. "He was only supposed to drink a little…"

"_Shit_." Mitchell ran past her, into the room where she had been chained. Her body was there, slumped over, dead as could be.

"Ivan," he said under his breath.

He turned. She'd followed him. She was starting to cry.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he said, but his words were hollow. They always died. Eventually.

"I wasn't even good enough to turn," she sobbed.

Mitchell shook his head. "No. He didn't mean to -"

"But he did, didn't he?" She sank down to the floor. "Now what am I supposed to do?"

He crouched down in front of her. "Did you see a door? A door that wasn't there before?"

She shook her head.

"OK," he said. "You're still here, so you must have unfinished business."

"Unfinished business?"

He nodded. "There must be some reason you're still here. Think."

She shrugged. "There isn't. I'm nobody."

"Nobody's nobody," he said. He thought for a moment, hoping that her unfinished business didn't involve taking down the Bristol vampires.

"Can you help me, Mitchell?"

Hearing her say his name jarred him. He didn't know hers.

"I don't know…"

"Please, Mitchell. You're one of the good ones."

"I'm really not."

"I heard you telling that other vampire not to kill. You're not like them, you're kind." She stared into his eyes. "Please help me."

Mitchell stood up. She was making him uncomfortable.

"I can't help you," he said. "But I know someone who can."

* * *

Annie was waiting at the door when he opened it.

"Mitchell!" she beamed. "You're home!"

"Just for a bit," he said, looking uneasy.

Annie's face fell as she saw the girl behind him, dressed in a black bustier and a pink miniskirt. A ghost? He'd brought a sexy _ghost_ home?

"Who is this?" she asked flatly.

"This," Mitchell said cautiously, "is Dahlia. She died today."

"Did you kill her?"

Dahlia peeked out from behind Mitchell. "Oh, no, Mitchell isn't like that," she said.

"I think I know Mitchell, thank you," Annie said.

Mitchell clicked his tongue. "Can you give us a moment, Dahlia?" he said, motioning Annie to the kitchen.

Annie sighed and followed him. In the kitchen, Mitchell glared at her. "Of course I didn't kill her. Why would you say that?"

"I don't know, Mitchell, she looks like your type."

"My type? She's not my -" he paused and took a deep breath, composing himself. "I found her, OK? She asked me for help. I thought you could -"

"I could what?"

"You're good at this kind of thing, Annie."

She crossed her arms. "Why should I help her? What's in it for me?"

Mitchell blinked. "You like helping people. It's what you do. And you keep saying you want some company -"

"Yes. I want _your_ company. George's company. Not any random ghost you drag in from the street."

"She needs help. What's your _problem_?"

"My problem is, you're never home anymore. You never even talk to me lately unless you want something."

"So Dahlia should suffer?"

"You care so terribly for her, you help her."

Mitchell covered his face with his hands. "Come on, Annie… I'll owe you."

"Owe me what?"

He dropped his hands. "I don't know. A favor? What do you want?"

"Time, Mitchell," she said. "I want you to spend more time with me, with us."

He sighed. "Sure, of course. I'll try to spend more -"

"No deal," she said, turning.

"What?"

"No," she said. "That's the same thing you say every time you bother to stop home - you'll try. But you don't."

"I do try."

"Well. You don't try hard enough."

"I've got a lot going on."

"I'm sorry if Dahlia cramps your style, Mitchell, but she goes with you when you leave."

"OK," Mitchell said, blocking her from the door, not that blocking her mattered. "I can do Sunday. This Sunday, I'll spend the whole day with you."

Annie paused. "I want Saturday _and_ Sunday."

"The whole weekend? What will we even do?"

"Don't worry, I'll plan it out."

He sighed. "I have to work on Saturday."

"I'll go in and change your schedule. I used to do it all the time for George, so he could have time off with Nina." She looked at him. "I don't know what you have going on, but I think you could use a break."

Mitchell thought for a moment. "OK," he said, finally.

"OK?"

"Yeah, OK."

"You're serious? You really mean it?"

He nodded. "I can use a break."

She smiled.

* * *

Mitchell hesitated at the door, his small farewell made more awkward by Dahlia's presence. "Well," he said. "I'll be back later."

"OK."

He reached out and squeezed Annie's shoulder before taking off into the night. She sighed. _A hug wouldn't kill you_, she thought.

She looked at Dahlia, who seemed to be inspecting every part of the lounge.

_Neither would a 'thank you.'_

Dahlia looked up from the board games she was looking at beneath the TV as Annie shut the door. "He is so hot," she said. "Oh my _god_."

Annie looked at the door. "Mitchell?" She shrugged. "We're such good friends I don't even notice anymore."

"Yeah, right." Dahlia shifted and sat crossed-legged on the floor. She looked around. "So this is where you and Mitchell live?"

Annie nodded. "And our friend George."

"Oh, is he hot, too?"

"No," Annie said, without thinking. "I mean, he's … I don't _think_ of them like that."

"It's a bit ordinary," Dahlia said abruptly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"This house. Bit ordinary."

"We like ordinary," Annie said. "It suits us. Makes us feel… normal."

Dahlia stood and looked at the stereo. "Who would ever want to be normal?"

"I don't know," Annie said. "People who _can't_ be 'normal.' Vampires. Werewolves. Ghosts."

"Werewolves?" Dahlia looked at her.

"Like… George."

Dahlia paused, but seemed nonplussed. "Huh."

"Well," Annie said. "What did you expect?"

Dahlia looked toward the sofa and coffee table. ""I don't know," she said. "Candelabras. Maybe some velvet drapery."

Annie laughed. "Velvet drapery?"

Dahlia shrugged.

"You looked at Mitchell and thought: _velvet drapery_?"

"Well, you know," Dahlia said, fingering the lace on her bustier. "In the stories, it's all so romantic. It's all I ever wanted. And now look at me, I'm not a vampire, I'm just dead." She paused. "I thought… I thought they would want me and accept me, but… it was nothing like the stories."

"Oh," Annie said, reaching out to comfort her. "Oh, honey, no. It's nothing like the stories."


	2. Chapter 2

Dahlia followed Annie as they walked to the hospital. Annie didn't want to waste time before fixing Mitchell's schedule. She was a bit frustrated that her attempts to teach Dahlia to rent-a-ghost there had failed, but she tried to be patient. It was a while before she was able to rent-a-ghost all the way to the hospital herself, after all.

"This is so weird," Dahlia marveled, stepping right through a pedestrian. "I'm a ghost, they can't see me!" She spun around and stopped. "I feel a bit funny being outside like this. Like I should be cold."

"It takes some getting used to is all," Annie said, though she'd had to suppress the urge to offer her a jumper for the walk.

Dahlia started walking again beside Annie. "Where are all the other ghosts?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, people die every day. You'd think there would be loads out in the street."

Annie shrugged. "Most just cross over as soon as they die."

"Oh."

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

"So," Dahlia said, finally, "How many people become ghosts?"

"I don't know," Annie said. "Not many. I've only met a few myself."

"So we're the minority."

Annie thought for a moment and nodded. "You could say that."

"We're the special ones."

"I… I guess."

Dahlia beamed. "I've never been special before," she said.

* * *

Annie scowled at Mitchell's schedule. "This can't be right."

"What's wrong?" Dahlia asked.

"Just… Mitchell says he's been working overtime, but look at this… he only has four days this week."

"So?"

"So? It's barely 30 hours. That's not overtime." Annie frowned. "Why would he lie like that?" She looked at Dahlia.

"I don't know," Dahlia said, shifting. "Maybe he has other things to do."

"Like what?"

Dahlia looked at Annie uncomfortably. "I don't know."

Annie gave her a look. "What?"

Dahlia shook her head. "nothing," she said.

"Dahlia," Annie started, but before she could finish, Dahlia had disappeared. "Dahlia?"

Annie sighed and rubbed out Mitchell's Saturday hours. At least he hadn't lied about that. She grabbed the dry erase pen and added hours to Monday. Then, just because she felt lied to, she added an extra shift to Wednesday.

Annie turned and walked out into the corridor. She concentrated, trying to locate Dahlia in her mind, but it was no use. She barely knew Dahlia. She'd have to look for her the old fashioned way.

"Dahlia!" she called out, peering into the rooms one by one. "I'm serious, Dahlia, I don't have time for this!" She turned, and, all the way at the other end of the hallway, she saw her, swaying slightly as she peered into one of the rooms.

Annie sighed and rent-a-ghosted to her side. Before she could say anything, she noticed a tear running down Dahlia's cheek.

Annie looked. There was a patient in the room, a woman, hooked up to machines.

She turned to Dahlia. "Do you know her?"

Dahlia shook her head slowly. "No." She wiped her face with her bare forearm. "It's just hospitals, you know?" She looked at the wet streak on her arm. "Ghosts can't eat or sleep, but we can cry?"

Annie paused, facing Dahlia. "For a long time, all I _could_ do was cry." They stood in silence for a few moments, until Annie shook it off. "Right," she said. "I'm going to teach you how to get back home in one jump."

"OK."

"Just relax, and think about the kitchen in my house…"

Dahlia closed her eyes and concentrated.

"Just picture yourself there…" Annie blinked and found herself in the kitchen. Alone.

"Oh, for -"

She rent-a-ghosted back to the hospital.

Dahlia was standing halfway down the hall, looking defeated. "You make it look so easy."

"It just takes practice," Annie said, popping over to her. She put her hand on Dahlia's shoulder. "OK, think of the lounge this time…"

Dahlia nodded, and before she could get a good picture of it in her mind, they were both standing in it.

Annie pulled her hand away quickly. "You did it!"

"You helped, I think," Dahlia laughed.

"Well, a little push never hurt." Annie smiled. "Tea?"

"Tea? We can't even drink it though."

Annie glided into the kitchen and put the kettle on. "It just makes me feel better. It makes me feel normal"

"There you go with being normal again," Dahlia sighed, following her and sliding into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Well, what do you like to do?"

"I don't know," Dahlia said, slouching. "Anything but make tea."

Annie frowned. "You must have done something before you died. You must have had friends, family…" she sat down across from her.

"I mean, I used to. I ran away from home about a year ago."

"You ran away? Why?"

"Bored, I guess. I wanted to be an actress."

"So you ran away."

Dahlia shrugged. "I wanted to be free. You know? Well, I'd been into like, goth, I guess, since I was like 14, so I was with some friends... and one of them knows these blokes making a movie, a horror movie. And I got to be in it. I was a screamer. You know -" she let out a bloodcurdling horror movie scream.

Annie flinched. "OK…"

"Well they were all, like, hardcore horror types. They were like, 'if you're really the real deal, if you're a real freak, you'll do bloodletting.'"

"Bloodletting?"

"Yeah, you probably know all about it."

"I know it's a medieval thing."

"Oh, that's what they say. But mostly it's been used by vampires."

Annie sat straight up. "Vampires?" It took her a moment to remember that Dahlia was a ghost, and aware of vampires.

"So they took me to this crazy vampire lair…"

"Wait - while you were alive?"

"Of course."

"You knew about vampires while you were alive?"

"I told you, it was hard-core. Anyway -"

Annie stood up. "You volunteered to feed vampires?"

Dhalia looked up at her. "Well, yeah."

Annie thought she was going to be sick. "You were _killed_ by vampires?"

Dahlia blinked. "I mean… just one."

"Oh…" Annie looked like she was going to fall over. "Mitchell did kill you…"

"No," Dahlia insisted. "No! Mitchell's clean, I swear!"

"He told me he found you!"

"He did! He did find me!"

Annie covered her face with her hands. "I thought he just found you in the street, I thought you were a -"

Dahlia drew back. "What, a prostitute?"

"And I was fine with that!" Annie sat down again. "Oh, Dahlia… were you trying to become one of them?"

Dahlia shrugged. "I was trying to fit somewhere." She paused. "Do you hate me now?"

"No, of course not." Annie sighed. "I guess it's too late to tell you that messing around with vampires is a really bad idea."

"Well, you live with one."

Annie got up to fix the tea. "How do you think I know?"


	3. Chapter 3

_Three days later._

Mitchell slogged through his day like he always did. He hadn't had a weekend off, really off, in almost as long as he could remember, and the occasional realization that he was just a few hours from a proper weekend at home made him smile, even as he mopped up sick. He was going to really have a break and shut it off. He was going to try.

Dr. Nadir spotted him from the end of the corridor and walked quickly toward him. "Mitchell," he called out, "just the person I was looking for!"

Mitchell snapped out of his haze and straightened up. "What's up?"

"Short on staff today… can you transport a patient from 314 up to the Radiology suite?" He glanced at his watch. "Straight away?"

"314?"

"I told Susan she'd be there by three." He pushed Mitchell's cart up against the wall. "It'll be here when you're done," he said.

"No problem."

Dr. Nadir nodded briskly and scuttled away. Mitchell stepped into the washroom and washed his hands, mentally recalling which direction 314 was on the floor. He didn't mind transporting patients. Didn't mind it at all. He especially liked the elderly patients, although they were a reminder that everyone he knew "before" was gone. The kids who fought in the Second World War were in their 80s and 90s now. He hadn't met another veteran of The first Great War - a human one - in decades. Certainly not since he'd started this job. Still, he took a strange comfort in the elderly and enjoyed their brief chats as he rolled them from one part of the hospital to another.

He made his way down the hallway to 314. A woman sat waiting in a wheelchair while her roommate slept soundly. She wasn't old, mid-40s at most, which was mildly disappointing.

"I guess you're all ready," he said with a smile, folder in hand. "My name's Mitchell, I'm gonna take you right up to Radiology."

The woman beamed. "Oh, lovely!" She clutched what appeared to be a small scrapbook to her chest.

"You can leave that here," he said.

"Oh, no, I couldn't," she said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He paused and shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, tucking the folder into a pocket on the back of the chair and pushing her out the door.

"So," he said, in an effort to sound effortlessly friendly, "Have you read any good articles lately?" He knew not to ask about the patient's condition unless they volunteered the information.

"Oh, I have, I have!" she said. "Well, not lately. I don't do much reading anymore. I always like the hero stories. The inspirational ones, you know, in the Digest. Sometimes they just make you cry, they do. In a good way, of course."

Mitchell nodded. Before he could respond, Dr. Nadir came up behind him.

"Mitchell, what are you doing?"

Mitchell turned. "You told me to transport the patient from 314 to Radiology."

Dr. Nadir stared at him like he was missing a screw. "Well, why aren't you?"

Mitchell blinked and looked at the woman from 314. She looked up at him, smiling. "Well, then, who -" he stopped and stared at her closely. _Shit_. He, as subtly as he could muster, touched her on the arm. _Squish_.

Shit. _Shit_.

"Bad chair," he blurted out. It was the first thing that had come to mind. "It's a… it's a bad chair."

Dr. Nadir tilted his head. "Beg your pardon?"

"The chair. Wheels are no good."

"It looks fine to me."

"I just need to switch it out."

"Mitchell, it is now three twenty-seven. I need you to get my patient up there immediately."

Mitchell nodded. "Straight away." He pushed the wheelchair to the nearest supply closet as Dr. Nadir rushed away. He pulled the chair in backward and turned to the woman.

"Get out of the chair."

"What?"

"Get up. I know you can. There's nothing wrong with you."

"I thought you were taking me to Radiology."

"Ghosts don't need radiology."

"Oh, but I'd still really like to go," she said. "You're the first person to talk to me in ages!"

"This is a hospital," Mitchell said. "There are other ghosts for you to talk to."

She blinked. "Where?"

"I don't know where. I don't keep track of the ghosts in this place."

She followed him as he pushed the empty wheelchair back to 314. "Have you seen them?"

He ignored her as he passed a group of visitors. He was disturbed that this had actually happened. Although, the more he thought about it, the more he couldn't believe this hadn't happened before. He was so acclimated to interacting with ghosts - mainly Annie - that he sometimes forgot they weren't people. Even when Annie was in one of her "solid" phases, she didn't seem any different to him. He couldn't tell, until a human interacted with her. He'd have to be more careful.

He entered 314, the ghost woman still in tow.

"Stay here," he ordered, glancing at the sleeping patient.

The woman sat on the end of the bed. "But… have you seen others? In this hospital?"

Mitchell glared at her. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

"Of course not."

"Then _leave me alone_."

* * *

At first, Mitchell had thought of his promise to spend the weekend with Annie as an obligation, a deal to get her to help Dahlia. But as he walked up to the door to the house, he was genuinely looking forward to it. Two days, and no hospital, no cleaning up sick, no babysitting vampires. Just hanging out at home, watching movies, relaxing and forgetting everything. Annie was right, it was what he needed.

He walked into the house, expecting Annie to be waiting for him at the door excitedly. She wasn't there. He could hear voices, talking and laughing. He peered into the lounge. Annie and Dahlia sat on opposite ends of the sofa, completely oblivious of him.

How was Dahlia still there? Mitchell wondered, disappointed. He'd expected Annie to get rid of her in a day or so.

"So," Dahlia said to Annie, "Vonda knew the whole thing by heart."

"Wow," Annie said.

Mitchell leaned in. "Hey, Annie," he said.

Annie turned and smiled. "Oh, Mitchell, you're home!"

"Yeah. I mean, you said the whole weekend."

"Is it the weekend?"

"It's… it's Friday…"

"Oh," she said. "I thought it was starting on Saturday."

Mitchell blinked. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we did say Saturday. Well, I'll leave you two to it -"

"Don't be silly, Mitchell!" Annie said."Come join us!" She scooted over on the sofa to make room. "Dahlia was just telling me about _Venus in Furs_."

"_Venus in Fur_," Dahlia corrected.

"_Venus in Fur_," Annie said.

"The book?" Mitchell asked.

"No," Dahlia said. "The play. I auditioned for Vonda, but I didn't get it."

"Wankers," Annie muttered.

"The girl who got it wasn't even into bondage."

Mitchell nodded, wondering if Dahlia would still be alive if she'd gotten the role. "I think 'Ghost Finders' is on," he said, changing the subject.

"Oh!" Annie said, hitting Mitchells arm with her fingers as he turned on the TV with the remote. "My favorite!"

"It's so fake," Dahlia said, shaking her head.

"No it's not," Annie and Mitchell said at the same time.

Dahlia shifted and watched. The Ghost Finders were in some abandoned building with their beeping machines and night vision cameras. The one with a beard and glasses breathlessly read the readings and insisted they weren't alone. The brunette woman let out a scream, and they shined a bright flashlight on her. There next to her, unseen with night vision, stood a man, his eyes hollow, his jaw hanging open. As the light scanned the room, there were more - maybe six of them, all with the same hollow look.

Dahlia screamed.

"Oh," Annie said, covering her face, "I hate it when they're like that."

"Don't they see them?" Dahlia asked, her hand covering her mouth.

"No, of course not," Mitchell said. "They're _ghosts_. They can only detect them with their detector thing."

"But we can see them through the TV?"

Mitchell nodded. Dahlia took a deep breath. "Why do they look so… creepy?"

"They're lost souls," Annie said matter-of-factly.

"Poltergeists," Mitchell said. "Proper poltergeists, not like Annie in a bad mood."

Annie slapped him on the arm.

"So," Dahlia said, "If I don't find my purpose, I could turn into one of those?"

Annie and Mitchell looked at each other.

"No, of course not," Annie said, touching her hand. "We'll find your purpose."

"Well, what's your purpose?" she asked Annie.

Annie thought. "It used to be getting Owen to confess, but now…" she glanced at Mitchell. "Well, it helps to have friends."

"Aren't those poltergeists friends?"

"It's complicated," Mitchell said. He sighed and turned off the TV. "Something weird happened today," he said after a moment.

"What happened?" Annie asked.

"I mistook a ghost for a patient. Almost got in big trouble, too."

"You thought he was a human?"

"I did. I mean, she looked like a patient. She acted like one. She must've died in the room or something."

"Oh, the poor woman," Annie said.

Dahlia shifted. "Patients stay in hospital after they die?"

"No, not usually," Mitchell said. "I mean, some do. I've seen more than a couple. But I never had that happen before."

"What did she look like?" Dahlia asked.

"I don't know," Mitchell said. "She wasn't really old or really young. Dark hair. She just looked like a regular person. Nadir saw me pushing an empty wheelchair down the hall and almost chewed my head off."

"Aw," Annie said, rubbing his shoulder. "I'll make you some tea."

"I don't need tea."

"Coffee, then!" Annie jumped out of her seat.

"It's Friday night, Annie. I could use something a bit stronger than coffee."

"Oh!" Annie beamed. "A Tom Collins!" She spun and disappeared into the kitchen.

Mitchell sat back, shaking his head lightly, but looking content.

"You know," Dahlia said, her arms propped on the back of the sofa as she gazed at him. "I was jealous of Annie when you first brought me here. But you two are adorable."

Mitchell glanced at her sideways, then rolled his eyes. "No…"

"No, you are! It's like you were just made for each other!"

His expression turned stern. "That's a fucked up thing to say."

"What?"

He looked at her. "She was murdered. She wasn't 'made' for me. I'm not happy she was killed so she can fix me coffee."

"I didn't mean it like that," Dahlia said. "You didn't kill her, she would have died anyway -"

"She shouldn't have died at all." He stood up. "We're making the best of bad situations. It would be one thing if she were human, but she's not. Do you think this is the life I _want_?" He paused. Dahlia stared past him, her expression like a gasp.

Mitchell closed his eyes. He could already tell that she was behind him. "Annie."

He heard the glass shatter on the floor and felt her breeze up the stairs.

"_Fuck_." He looked at Dahlia, now giving him a disapproving look. "This is all your fault."

"My fault?" She watched him follow Annie upstairs. "I said you were adorable!"

* * *

Mitchell tried to open Annie's bedroom door, but it was locked. Well, not really locked. The door didn't have a lock. It was ghost-locked.

"Listen, Annie, it's not like that. You have it all out of context."

After a moment, the door opened. Annie glared at him, Dahlia at her side. "OK, then, put it into context."

He stopped to think.

"Oh, Mitchell," she said, "I knew you were having a rough time of everything, but I didn't think I was making you miserable…"

"No, no, you're not! I never said that!"

"But you don't want this life? Because we're not human?"

Mitchell's eyes moved from Annie to Dahlia. "Do you _fucking_ mind, Dahlia?"

Annie huffed. "Anything you can say to me you can say to Dahlia."

Dahlia nodded.

Mitchell stepped toward her. "My house," he said. "My housemate. Fuck off downstairs before I kick you out of this house altogether."

"Mitchell!" Annie gasped.

Dahlia didn't flinch. "You can be a right bastard when you want to be," she said evenly. She glanced at Annie. "It's fine, Annie, I'll be right in the other room."

Mitchell sighed and stepped in the room, shutting the door behind Dahlia. He leaned against the wall, eyes closed, for just a few seconds before leaning toward her and looking her in the eye.

"What if you had a chance for a normal life? Without me and George?"

"I wouldn't want it."

"But what if you could have those things you want? To be seen, to have a family, to be able to do your design and have people appreciate it?"

"I've been seen," she said. "It didn't exactly work out."

"But what if it could? What if you met someone…"

Annie blinked. "I did meet someone. It didn't work out."

"No, I mean -"

"Mitchell, you told me yourself you couldn't stop being what you are."

"But maybe if I found -"

"You found George. You found me." She paused. "Maybe if I were human, right?"

He looked at her. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know… That was a fucked thing to say."

"Fucked," she said, "but true." She sighed. "I think you should go."

"Go where?"

She sank into her chair. "I don't care, Mitchell, just go." He expected to see tears, but she just stared at the wall. "_Get out_."

* * *

Referenced in this Chapter:

"Venus in Fur," a play by David Ives (fictional small theatre production)br /

"Venus in Furs," a book by Leopold von Sacher-Masochbr /

"Ghost Finders" is a fictional version of "Ghost Hunters," etcbr /

The description and concept of the "lost soul" ghosts on the show are from the BBC Being Human tie-in novel "The Road" by Simon Guerrier


	4. Chapter 4

Dahlia walked through the door into Annie's room.

Annie looked up at her. "Why is he still here?" she asked.

"He says he's not going anywhere."

"Yeah, right."

Dahlia slid next to Annie in the chair. "He'll figure it out," she said.

"No, he's got it figured out. He's right."

Dahlia rolled her eyes. "Ugh. He's so not right. He feels guilty because your death made his so-called life better."

Annie hesitated. That was a new one to her. "Not better enough, I guess," she said with a shrug. She sighed. "First George… now Mitchell thinks he can have a 'normal life'..."

"What is it with you lot and 'normal'?"

"I don't know," Annie sighed. "Maybe you're right. I mean, we're not normal, not even by supernatural standards, none of us are."

"Break the rules!"

Annie nodded. "Yeah."

They could hear Mitchell's footsteps coming toward the door.

"Why is he still here?" Annie asked again. But she didn't bother to ghost lock the door.

Mitchell opened the door and stuck his head in. "George is coming."

Annie beamed. "George!"

"And he's got Sam with him."

Annie's face fell. "Sam?" The lamp on the dresser rattled.

"Yeah - none of that," he said, pointing to the lamp. "No rattling things round, no more burst lightbulbs -"

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Just don't freak her out, OK?"

Annie crossed her arms. "Maybe I want to freak her out," she said. "Maybe I _want_ to scare her away. Forever."

"Oh yeah, good luck ever seeing George again then."

Annie made a face and stood. "Fine."

* * *

Annie and Dahlia stood in the upstairs hall, waiting for George to arrive in any minute.

"Who's Sam?" Dahlia asked.

"Oh," Annie said. "George's so-called girlfriend."

"You don't like her?"

"She only ruining my entire afterlife," Annie said. "But I'm sure she's a lovely girl."

"So you have a thing for George, too?"

Annie looked at her. "What? I don't have a _thing_ for anyone. George and Mitchell are _my_ housemates. I'm not having them leave me for some randos."

Dahlia gave her a look.

"I liked _Nina_. Why is he chasing after that… that _rando_, when Nina's out there?"

"Who's Nina?"

"The love of George's life. Keep up."

"So George can move out to be with Nina…"

"Oh, god, no." She looked at Dahlia. "But that's not an issue, is it, because when Nina comes back, we'll all be together." A lightbulb popped downstairs in the lounge.

"Dammit, Annie…" Mitchell rushed from the kitchen to change the bulb.

"Why is he _still here_?" Annie whispered.

"I heard that," he called.

* * *

George opened the door gingerly. "Well," he said, stepping inside, "here we are... my humble abode."

Sam looked around. "It's nice," she said.

Mitchell came out from the kitchen, putting on his best 'normal housemate' face. "You must be Sam," he said. "We've heard all about you." It was a lie. Mitchell knew nothing about her beyond her name. But she was cute. He could see why George fancied her.

"Good things, I hope," she said nervously.

Mitchell nodded. "Can I get you anything? A coffee? A beer?"

"We're not staying," George said. "I just need to pick up some clothes." He glanced up the stairs to see Annie peering down at them with disapproval. He looked at Mitchell. "I didn't think you'd be in tonight," he said. "Friday night and all... you home... alone."

Mitchell shrugged. "Sometimes you just want some quiet solitude, you know?"

They could hear Annie snort from the stairway.

"I'm the same way," said Sam, oblivious.

"You know, I think we will have some tea," George said. "If you can help Mitchell with that, Sweetheart, I'll be right down."

"Sweetheart?" Annie moaned. "Make me vomit why don't you." She looked at Dahlia at the top of the stairs, who instantly made a retching face in solidarity.

George breezed past Annie on the stairs, ignoring her. But he couldn't ignore the strange woman at the top. He stopped and turned, giving Annie a confused look.

Annie shrugged, and followed him to his room, Dahlia in tow.

George shut the door and turned to Annie. "What the bloody hell is going on here?" He whispered urgently.

"Nothing," Annie said.

"Nothing?" He pointed at Dahlia. "Who is this?"

"This is Dahlia. My friend."

"Your friend?"

"Mitchell brought me."

George blinked. "Is this some kind of sex thing?"

"What?" Annie drew back.

"Some kind of bizarre - are you all - I leave for a couple of days and it turns into Sodom!"

"Of course not, George, oh my god! I'm helping her find her unfinished business."

"It's what she does," Dahlia chimed in.

"It's what I do, George."

George looked incredulously from Dahlia to Annie. "Since when?"

"How dare you," Annie said. "I help people whenever I can, you know that!"

Dahlia clicked her tongue. George was feeling outnumbered. He pulled some clothes from the dresser and turned to Annie.

"And what's with Mitchell?"

Annie shrugged. "You know how he is when humans visit."

"Plus they're having a row," Dahlia, sitting down on George's bed.

"Oh, wonderful."

"We're not - I'm just not speaking to him at the moment."

"Annie, whatever he said, he wasn't thinking. You know Mitchell."

"Not this time," Annie said. "But it doesn't matter. I don't need him.."

"That's right," Dahlia said.

George sighed. "I need to know that the two of you will be able to get on without me."

Annie huffed.

"Promise me," George said. "This little tiff will blow over, and everything will be fine. Everything will go back to normal."

"Without you?"

"Mitchell needs someone. But it can't be me forever. You and Mitchell are the best of friends… sometimes I feel like," he shoved his clothes into his rucksack, "a third wheel -"

"Don't be ridiculous George," Annie said, crossing her arms. "Anyway. I don't know what's happened. It's different now."

"Well make it _un_-different."

"Oh! Should I raise Herrick from the dead, then?"

George winced.

Annie closed her eyes, wishing she could take it back. "I didn't mean - things weren't better..." She blinked. "If you hadn't, Mitchell wouldn't be here…"

Dahlia looked from Annie to George, confused, but aware that this wasn't the time for explanation.

George slung the sack over his shoulder. "It's fine, Annie." He looked her in the eye. "People say stupid things."


	5. Chapter 5

Annie sat on the top of the stairs, listening to George, Mitchell and Sam chat down in the kitchen. She wanted to be down there with them, but Sam… Sam was ruining everything, and she knew that if she popped down there, they'd shoot daggers at her with their eyes and ignore her, because heaven forfend the living girl not be the center of attention.

She sighed. "I miss the way it used to be," she said. "Just the three of us against the world."

"Oh, forget them," Dahlia said. "Let's go do something."

"No," Annie said. "They're both here. I don't want to miss anything."

"They have you shoved away upstairs like some kind of -"

"That's how it is. We can't be normal with a human in the house."

"You don't have to take that, Annie. They act like you're second class."

"It didn't used to be that way."

"But it is now. Obviously." Dahlia sighed. "Let's go out, have a party!"

Annie perked up and crept to the bottom of the stairs.

"It was nice to meet you, Mitchell," Sam said, her arm linked with George's as they headed for the door.

"You're welcome here any time," Mitchell said, his game face still in place.

"Over my dead body," Annie muttered.

She watched them leave, and looked at Mitchell as he closed the door.

He looked at her and shrugged. "She's...nice."

Annie made a face and was about to answer, but turned to Dahlia instead. "You know, you're right. Let's go out and have some fun."

Mitchell tried fruitlessly to block the door. "Where do you think you're going?"

Dahlia turned to him. "Out."

"Out where?"

"Anywhere we want. We're going ghost jumping."

"Ghost jumping."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, that's not a thing."

Dahlia made a face. "You don't get to tell us what isn't a ghost thing," she said indignantly. She pointed at him. "You... with your... skin…" She looked at Annie. "What's that word? When you're, like, solid?"

"Corporeal," Mitchell said flatly.

"That's it," Annie said.

"Corpie!" Dahlia said, her voice rising. "We don't have to take it from you corpies!"

Mitchell sighed. "Really? That's what we're doing now?"

"Annie needs space. She needs freedom!" Dahlia grabbed Annie by the arm. "If she stays here any longer with you lot, not even caring that she's stuck here alone-"

"Hey," Mitchell cut in.

"- she'll just end up a lost soul. That might not matter to you, Mitchell, but it matters to me."

Mitchell looked from Annie to Dahlia. "You don't have the first idea what I've done for Annie."

"And what have you done for her lately?"

Mitchell blinked and looked at Annie. "You're not even going to stand up for me?"

Annie shifted. She didn't want to break her silent treatment, but she was conflicted. "I just need to go out and clear my head," she said.

"Well, when are you coming back?"

"Soon."

"Or not," Dahlia said. She leaned toward Mitchell. "See how you feel sitting at home waiting, for once."

* * *

Ghost jumping wasn't quite as exciting as Annie had hoped. Dahlia had taken her to a goth club where she'd mildly harassed an ex boyfriend while Annie wondered if Mitchell was worried about her. The second place was a dud, just a boring pub filled with boring people.

The third place, a dance club, didn't seem any better, until Annie got the distinct feeling she was being watched.

Standing in the middle of the Friday night crowd, two young men, one tall, pale, and blonde, the other nearly as tall with dark skin and shoulder-length hair, smiled and nodded at them.

Annie batted Dahlia on the arm. "Do those two see us?"

The young men walked toward them, all smiles.

"Hello ladies," said the blonde one. "We've not seen you here before." He stuck out his hand in greeting. "Den," he said, and nodded toward his friend. "And this is Hasaan."

Dahlia smiled. "I'm Dahlia," she said. "This is Annie."

Annie nodded uncomfortably.

"You know," Hasaan said, "The real party is up there." He nodded upwards.

"I didn't know there was a second floor," Annie said.

Den and Hasaan looked at each other and laughed lightly.

"You've really never been here before?" Den asked.

Annie and Dahlia shook their heads.

"Well, what's taken you so long?" Den laughed. "This is _the_ spot for dead people in all of Bristol."

"Oh," Annie said, looking at Dahlia. "We didn't know."

"Are you from someplace else?" Hasaan asked.

Annie shook her head. "Not since I've been dead, anyway."

"I've only just died," said Dahlia, eyes on Hasaan, smiling.

"We'd be happy to show you round," he said, leaning toward her.

"That would be -"

In a flash, Dahlia found herself on the pavement outside the club, Annie clutching at her arm. She'd been forcibly rent-a-ghosted - and she didn't like it one bit.

"What are you doing?" Annie asked, a maternal tone to her voice.

"What do you mean what am I doing? We came out to have fun!"

"We don't even know those boys."

"That's what you do when you go out, Annie, you meet people! We've finally met some ghosts - and they're _hot_ ghosts!"

Annie crossed her arms. "Well, I'm not going with them."

"Annie," Dahlia sighed. "We're already dead. You're an expert at disappearing. What could they possibly do to us?"

"There's a lot you don't know about all of this," Annie said. "What if they tried to force us through a door? What if their whole thing is to capture ghosts and force them through doors?" She looked like she was about to hyperventilate, even though that was of course impossible. "They'd never even know what happened to me. I'd never even get to say goodbye."

"Do you honestly think -"

They were interrupted by a boy in swim shorts diving head first into the pavement. As Annie and Dahlia gasped in shock, the boy jumped up to his feet and cheered. Up on the roof of the club, several figures leaned over, hollering and laughing and calling out numbers.

"Six?!" swim shorts called defensively, and disappeared.

"Well," Dahlia said, as they stared up at the roof. "They didn't lie about a party, did they?"

Annie shook her head, her eyes fixed on the top of the building. Who knew how many ghosts were up there. She'd never seen ghosts congregate like that. Part of her felt bad about it, as if she had isolated herself from some sort of ghost culture.

"Mitchell would probably disapprove," Dahlia said, glancing at Annie sideways.

"He definitely would, wouldn't he?"

"He's probably out having a party with other vampires right now."

"_No_ -" Annie turned to Dahlia, then paused in thought. In reality, she had no idea what the hell he did most of the time. "You know what? Let's go to that party."

Dahlia beamed.

"But we are rent-a-ghosting out of there at the first sign of any funny business."

"Of course." Dahlia took Annie by the arm. "I get Hasaan. You can have the other one."

"How is that fair?" Annie blinked. "Wait, Dahlia, this isn't a _hookup_."

"Speak for yourself," Dahlia said.

* * *

Hasaan and Den were waiting for them amongst the drunken humans in the club, as if they had known Annie and Dahlia were coming right back. Other ghosts seemed to get less agitated by impulsive rent-a-ghosting away than George and Mitchell. It was kind of nice.

Annie smiled at Den. He was cute, actually, in gangly, affable way. Not the kind of guy she normally would have noticed, but not appalling. Hasaan, on the other hand, with his deep dark eyes and sly smile, was the kind of guy she could see herself going for. Just as well Dahlia had claimed him for herself.

The rooftop party was like nothing she'd ever seen. There were dozens of ghosts, mostly young, moving and buzzing in a mass of energy. Like what you might see downstairs on the dance floor, but different. Bodies flickered and jumped, some levitated. There was no loud music. Instead, it was as if the ghosts created their own rhythm themselves.

"How long have you been coming here?" Annie asked Den as Dahlia and Hasaan disappeared into the ghost crowd.

"Since 19 June."

"This year?"

He laughed. "No. 19 June, 1982."

"Oh." Annie looked confused.

"You don't know what happened here?"

She swallowed. "It can't have been anything good."

He shook his head. "This place burned to the ground. 36 of us died that night."

"Oh my god!" She gasped. "I'm so sorry, Den."

"I've made my peace," he said with a shrug.

"Then why are you still -" she caught herself. It was none of her business why he was still here. She looked out at the crowd. "So all of you stayed here?"

He shook his head. "Some moved on right away. A few. It all happened so fast... most of us weren't ready. Dancing one minute, just... gone the next." He took a sip out of a plastic cup he'd been carrying. A sight so common in a nightclub, it almost didn't register with her. As he swallowed his drink, she realized he must have perished with it in his hand.

"I know how that feels," she said, but she didn't, really. She tried not to think about what happened to him and the laughing, dancing souls around them.

"Those of us who stayed, just... kept the party going. Other ghosts started showing up. We even go out and find lost ghosts and bring them here. That's how I met Hasaan."

"Oh, that's nice."

He shrugged. "It's something. I came close to losing myself a couple of times. Helping dead people gives me a purpose."

"What about their unfinished business?"

"Unfinished business is a choice," he said, staring straight into the crowd. He turned to look at her abruptly, startling her. "What you do after death is a choice. Don't let anyone tell you different."

She nodded. Part of her wanted to boast that she'd turned down her own door, that she knew how to refuse doors and evade the men. But they'd really only just met.

"What about you?" He asked.

"Murdered," she said.

"Jesus."

"By my fiance."

"Fucking hell. Do you, like, torment him?"

"I did," she said, unable to suppress a smile. "He had a breakdown and confessed."

"Good on you!" He clapped her on the shoulder. "So it's just you and Dahlia?"

She shook her head. "I've only just met Dahlia. I'm helping her figure things out."

"So you're on your own?"

"No, not at all! I have housemates."

"What, you live with people?"

"Well, not exactly people."

"What, vampires?" He laughed, his tone so clearly sarcastic it set her on edge.

She paused. "He's a clean vampire."

Den's face fell as he realized she wasn't joking.

"There's no such thing as a clean vampire."

"Well, you haven't met my housemate," she said.

"I don't have to." His expression was deadly serious.

Annie considered laughing it off. She looked around nervously. Den seemed to have cooled on her, as if he'd just discovered that, instead of a friendly ghost, she was some sort of ghoul. She didn't dare bring up George.

After a moment, she faced him again. "You know what, Den? You're right. What I do after death is my choice."

_(author's note: The fire referred to in this chapter is fictional)_


End file.
